Dirty Pretty Things
by GentilleRemus
Summary: Hermione's life changed forever after the surprising last battle, but will Severus be able to save her from herself? And will she be able to save him?
1. Love for a galleon

Severus Snape walked down the hallways of Hogwarts, sighing and shaking his head. He kept thinking about what Dumbledore had said to him. He hadn't said much, only that a previous student of his, Hermione Granger, was in trouble, and that he had to help her. Snape remembered Hermione vaguely; she had bushy brown hair, buck teeth, and was always hanging around two other boys, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. All three of them didn't stand out of a crowd, except for their intense love of getting into trouble. Or so it seemed. But that Granger had always been the bright one. Yes, she enjoyed her share of mischief, but she was also the brain of their little "operations". And now she was in trouble. And it was obviously something rather severe for Dumbledore to have told him to go get her. This was why he had just apparated and was now standing in the middle of a sidewalk in a more rundown area of a wizarding town a bit smaller than Hogsmeade. There were the usual houses on either side of the streets but they were few and far between. The spaces were mostly occupied by shops, bars, and ratty little establishments that served as makeshift hotels.  
  
Snape sighed resignedly, and took out a map that showed the various buildings in the town, called Lodye. He was supposed to be able to find her in one of several bars/hotels, so he decided to start by going into the closest one to him, The Chaser's Goal. It was the wizarding equivalent of a muggle sports bar, but for quidditch. The inside wasn't as run down as Severus had expected, but still more on the trashy side. And no sign of Hermione. So he left to go to the next closest place on the list, The Bludgeoned Griffon. Not a pleasant name, Snape thought to himself. Of course, the entire town wasn't too pleasant. He looked around and immediately spotted long, brown, fluffy hair near the bar, and decided to walk up and order a drink to get a closer look. He ordered a not-too-potent glass of pumpkin juice with a shot of vodka mixed in and looked closely at her as he waited for his drink to be served. Indeed it was her, the side of her face that was towards him wasn't covered by her hair, unlike the other, and Severus thanked Merlin for small favors. He noticed her turning around, leaning back against the bar to flaunt her scantily clad form. She was wearing a black scrap of velvet that he supposed she thought qualified for a skirt, and a red, leather halter top. Her hair was long, down to her waist, and swept up on the left side with a black dragonfly clip, the other side just lying limp.  
  
Every time a man passed by she looked up at him with a playful little smile and flaunted her legs a bit. A couple of the men chuckled, and one even grabbed at her ass, at which she squealed. But all of them ordered their drinks and walked away. Finally, a man in his early twenties, with platinum blonde hair walked up to her and whispered something in her ear before walking up the stairs behind the bar, his cloak brushing the steps as he did so. Hermione quickly followed, and Snape watched, taking sips of his drink.  
  
He was supposed to watch her, when he found her, and follow her back home. She was also supposed to make sure she wasn't in any immediate danger. Dumbledore had never told Severus her profession, and he was still a little unsure what it was. She had obviously been trying to pick up a man, but whether it was because she was just a wild party girl or sex crazy he couldn't tell. About an hour later, she walked down the stairs in front of the platinum blonde. The side of her hair that had been in the clip was now down and tucked behind her ear. Other than that, she seemed relatively neat. At the bar, she took a sip of a drink that she ordered and held her hand out to the man. He handed her a small pouch of coins, with she quickly muttered a spell, turning it to a medallion on a chain, then put it around her neck. Looking down at her neck, he saw that there were three others there. Severus looked down at his watch and noticed that it was around 1:30 AM. The man finally turned around to walk out of the bar and Snape got a good look at him; it was Draco Malfoy. So Hermione WAS a prostitute and Malfoy had just paid for her services.  
  
Hermione downed the last of her drink and walked out of the bar, starting down the street. Snape quickly set a few coins on the table and followed her, a half dozen people or so between them so that she wouldn't suspect anything. It worked until he reached a street corner and she turned right onto a street that was almost deserted. He stopped, leaning casually against the light post and watched as she kept walking down the sidewalk and stopped in front of a white house before unlocking the door and walking inside. Snape waited about five minutes before he followed her, then stood in front of her door, trying to look in through her windows. Unfortunately, these were covered with blinds and curtains, so he couldn't make out anything. So, he stood and debated for several minutes whether or not to knock before he heard glass shatter, and Hermione scream, at which point he knocked at the door, trying not to sound too eager for her to open up.  
  
He heard footsteps inside and waited anxiously as he heard the locks scrape as they opened, and the door finally creaking to give way to a rough looking Hermione Granger. Her eyes and nose were red, and her face was tear stained. Her hair was disheveled and hanging down around and in front of her face. She was now in her underwear and an overlarge sweatshirt, scattered with holes. She leaned her head tiredly against the door, the knob still in one hand and a bottle of muggle whiskey in the other. Snape looked at her ragged form quickly, then addressed her.  
  
"Miss Granger?"  
  
She looked at him carefully, sniffled, and then said in a cracked voice, probably from crying or screaming, "Business hours are over."  
  
Snape looked a little startled, then offended, but tried to hide that. "Miss Granger, you may remember me as your previous professor, Severus Snape."  
  
If he thought that would clear the matter up, he was wrong. She just shrugged at him, giving him a look that said "so?"  
  
He cleared his throat and looked at her seriously, not believing that she could have thought that an old teacher of hers would hire her to sleep with him. "May I come in? I only wish to talk to you."  
  
Hermione gave him a considering look before moving away from the door in a slow, tired walk. "Make it short, I don't have a lot of time for social calls," she called over her shoulder.  
  
Snape stood in the doorway for a moment, dumbfounded, before quickly stepping in and closing the door. He saw Hermione in the kitchen, reaching for another glass out of the cupboard, then filling it with ice from the freezer, and filling that cup with whiskey. Her previous glass lay shattered in pieces on the floor, the remnants from what it held splashed across the wall in front of it, next to the kitchen's doorway. The house was one floor, and the living room held a single, puke colored couch, and a large slab of rough wood laid upon a couple of cardboard boxes that served as a table. There were empty cigarette packages and also empty bottles of various forms of alcohol spread across the floor. Her ashtrays and many used cigarettes lay scattered around the couch and on the table.  
  
Hermione walked in to see him examining her living room, with an almost sour expression and smirked, plopping down unceremoniously on her couch. She leaned back, her legs spread, and the glass of whiskey clutched in her hand between them. She half closed her eyes and looked at him through the tiny slits. "So, professor: What brings you to my neck of the neighborhood? Don't fancy you were out taking a stroll and got lost."  
  
Snape looked down at her, unsure of what to do or say. He remembered Hermione during her school years very precisely now, and realized it was a far cry from where she was today. "We're not in school anymore, Miss Granger: you may call me Severus. I was taking a vacation and thought I'd look up some old pupils of mine, see how they were doing, and I realized that you were quite close, so I thought I'd drop by for a visit. I hope I'm not interrupting something."  
  
Hermione stared at Severus over her glass, seeming to analyze him, and he was getting quite uncomfortable. "Well?" He finally asked, getting a bit impatient. "Aren't you going to say anything?"  
  
Hermione continued to stare at him for a moment before pouring herself another glass of whiskey. She spoke, unfazed. "Well, Severus, you come into my home, judge my surrounding, and tell me some bull shit story about me being nearby and you wanting to catch up with some pupils. What would you like me to say?"  
  
Snape gazed at her, now at a loss for words himself. How did she know he was lying? He mentally shook himself and decided that if she was going to be blunt, then he could be too. "You're a prostitute. Why?"  
  
Hermione looked neither surprised nor offended. Whether from the large amounts of alcohol she had been consuming that night or her noticeable lack of emotion, Snape wasn't sure. But it frightened him quite a bit. She downed the rest of her glass's contents before setting it on the table in front of her. "Yes, I am. I do it because it pays. Besides, what's better than having sex and getting paid for it?"  
  
"Yes, but there are a lot of other jobs that pay as well; respectable jobs. And isn't there more to life than sex? And isn't making love better when you're actually doing it with someone you love?"  
  
A flash of an emotion quickly appeared in Hermione's eyes and then left as she poured herself yet another glass. "Yeah, well. I work on my own hours. I make as much money as I want. And yeah, there is more to life than sex: money, which I get from sex. I see it as a win-win situation. And besides, I can't fall in love."  
  
Snape looked at her with open shock now. "Can't fall in love? Why not?"  
  
"You said it yourself: I'm a prostitute. We're not allowed to fall in love."  
  
Snape looked a bit perplexed and more than a bit aggravated, though at what he wasn't sure. "Yes, I realize your occupation as well as my own comments, thank you," he snapped. Then, realizing that his bitterness would get him nowhere, he softened his voice but still had a befuddled look on his face. "But why can't a prostitute fall in love?"  
  
Hermione looked down neutrally into her glass while speaking. "Well, why don't you ask Harry?" She threw her head back and laughed in a disconcerting way as tears formed in her eyes. "That's right. You can't." She stared blankly at the ceiling, letting silent tears slide down her cheeks.  
  
Snape felt for Hermione then, as he had never felt for a person. It was neither love nor disgust, but pity. He had seen some pretty awful things in his life, but for some reason watching this young woman drinking and crying in front of him was almost more than he could bear. "Harry Potter? Why can't I..." But he regretted asking immediately, knowing then what she had meant. But he wasn't expecting her reaction.  
  
"Because," she said, very faintly before sitting up and downing the remaining swallow in her glass. She looked livid, though not at him, and then threw the glass at the wall, screaming and crying, "He's dead! He's fucking dead and there's not a fucking thing that anyone can do."  
  
She slipped to the floor and sat, huddled with her knees to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs, sobbing. Snape was at a loss of what to do. He wanted nothing more than to rush over to her and hold her, wiping away her tears, but he also knew that she would probably push him away. So, he spelled the mess from the glasses and the cigarettes and the bottles away, and put a cleaning charm in the living room and the rest of the house before looking back at her. She was in a dazed state, half awake and half asleep, but she looked like she was dozing off. Snape carefully levitated her and lowered her onto her couch, so that she was now lying down. He grabbed an old afghan off of one of the arms of the couch and spread it over her, touching her hair lightly as he sighed in pain for her. Severus stood there for a few moments, not moving or talking, and hardly breathing, just thinking about how much things had changed over the past few years. Hermione was twenty-one now, maybe younger. How had all of this happened to her in the short amount of time since she had graduated Hogwarts with honors? A single tear, that Snape was unaware had even been forming, leaked out of the corner of his eye, slowly trailing down his face. He didn't bother to brush it away. He just turned around and left. 


	2. Unsuspected Heroes

Snape was sitting in a chair in front of Albus Dumbledore's desk, his fingers steepled and his mouth set in an undesirable scowl.

"You never told me," he growled in an almost dangerous tone.

Dumbledore looked at Snape considering, the twinkle still in his eye, but slightly dampened. "I didn't think it mattered, Severus. Miss Granger is, after all, still the same bright and intelligent person she was when she was still in Hogwarts."

Snape snorted at this. "Oh yes, I can see that. Promiscuous sex with anyone with a galleon. Yes, that's exactly what I would call bright and intelligent. Damn it, Albus, you should have told me! I should have been more prepared! I should have…" Snape stopped in mid-sentence, burying his face in his hands for a moment and taking a deep breath.

"Severus, I wouldn't have asked you to do this if I hadn't thought it possible. As I remember, you too had a most difficult time at one point in your life, and you have overcome it admirably with the help of others. I would like you to be the other to help Miss Granger."

Snape looked up at Dumbledore with an almost desperate look in his eyes. He wanted to help Hermione, more than he might care to admit to himself, but she was a mess; a drunk, desperate prostitute with no hope. A sudden thought crossed his mind, and he looked up at Dumbledore with a look of realization on his face. "Albus, I had thought that it wasn't possible for me to help Her-Miss Granger, but she could have easily killed herself by now, after all she had been through. Yet, Merlin knows how, she didn't. She must still have some hope."

Dumbledore nodded, the same knowing glint back in his eye. He was glad that Snape finally understood, even if Hermione, herself, didn't. Snape looked up at Dumbledore with a hopeful and determined expression.

"Albus, I'd like to bring her back here, to Hogwarts. I believe that here she will be able to get the help she needs to recover, and maybe feel a bit more at home,with these familiar surroundings."

Dumbledore's face clouded for a minute, but then he nodded. "Yes, I do believe that would be wise, but not until the school year is over. There are only two more weeks until the children return home. If she has held on this long, I do believe she will last for another two weeks, especially if you keep a very close eye on her, Severus. You do still have to attend to your duties as a professor here for the time being, but I would advise you to check up on her whenever you get the chanceor do not have other responsibilities until the school year is over. In fact, today is Saturday. Why don't you drop by at some point today and explain what all is going on. I do believe that it may offer her a small glimmer of hope in the shadows in which she in dwelling."

Snape nodded and murmured a thank you before leaving to go to his chambers, where he poured himself a glass of bourbon and sat down in his most comfortable armchair. As he sat there, gingerly sipping at his beverage, his mind drifted to Hermione. Her hair was slightly unkempt, her make-up had been smeared from crying, and her clothes were nearly in tatters. But to Snape, she had still been beautiful. She always had been to him. Of course, she also drove him up a wall with her know-it-all attitude and her pranks and choice of friends, mainly Potter and Weasley, but she had always been a pretty girl. Since fourth year, anyway. She had blossomed into a beautiful young woman over her time at Hogwarts, and the last good memory he had of her before she left was in the final battle, when she stood above Harry Potter in all her glory, facing Voldemort himself. Her face had been flushed with the exertion of fighting, and her eyes were livid with hatred. She was protecting the ones she loved, Harry and Ron, and hadn't an ounce of fear on her face. That was the moment when Snape had realized what a remarkable woman she had and would become.

The final battle had transpired far differently than anyone, even Dumbledore himself, would have predicted. The heroes had turned out to be defeated warriors, and the unsuspecting innocents had been found to suddenly save the day…

_Ginny Weasley walked through the halls accompanied by Professor McGonagall towards Headmaster Dumbledore's office, clasping and unclasping her hands. She had been called out in the middle of potions to see him, and she had yet to find out what she had done wrong. She was so lost thinking about the possibilities of her error that she didn't realize she was on the moving staircase until they had reached the ledge, where Professor McGonagall asked her to watch her step. After a short knock, the professor opened the door to allow herself and Ginny inside before closing it deftly. _

_The headmaster looked up and smiled warmly towards Ginny, sensing her nervousness. "Please, sit down Miss Weasley," he motioned to a chair in front of him. "I can assure you that you are not in trouble. But I'm afraid a rather disturbing issue has arisen. Minerva?" He motioned towards the grim looking professor, who pulled a mutilated journal out from beneath her robs, and set it carefully on Dumbledore's desk. It was an aging, leather bound notebook with Tom Riddle stamped on its cover in gold print, and was saturated with ink, the basilisk's fang still stabbed through its center. _

_Ginny's eves widened for a moment and she looked at the headmaster with a fearful gaze, but tried to keep her voice calm. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Professor. I thought that this journal had been destroyed?"_

_Dumbledore looked grim, but not unkind, and nodded. "As had I. However, Professor Trelawney had recently notified me of its whereabouts, as well as much more information that you need to hear."_

_Ginny leaned back in her chair, and looked nervously from McGonagall to Dumbledore, unsure what exactly he was talking about. "Ok-kay, professor. I'm listening," she said with a shaky voice. Dumbledore nodded once before continuing._

_"As you may or may not know, Professor Trelawney, our current divinations instructor, is a seer, albeit a random and unpredictable one. She rarely has visions, and has, in fact, had only a few real visions in her entire life. So, as you can imagine, we were all quite startled when she announced that she had one last night. In her vision she prophesized about a well dressed house elf that possessed this journal."_

_Ginny smiled, but looked a bit confused. "Dobby? But why would he have kept it?"_

_Dumbledore nodded again. "He looked at it as one of the reasons he gained his freedom, as without the book there would have been no sock." At Ginny's understanding look, he continued. "Now that we have located the book, the other parts of the prophecy will be able to take affect. You see, Professor Trelawney also spoke of 'a flaming angel who has been darkened once before'. We are not quite sure what all of the means, but she said that the young woman looked like you. And, so, here you are, about to help with the next part of the prophecy, if you are willing."_

_Ginny thought for a moment, before asking, "What do I have to do?"_

_Red hair splashed in front of her eyes as she ran towards the Great Hall, Tom Riddle's journal clutched in her arms. She quickly reached up and shoved it out of her face before walking into the large room, taking in the site before her: Death Eaters swarmed about the once cheerfully lighted chamber, their masks glowing eerily in the glows of spells. Five or six of them had already fallen, but a dozen students had already joined them on the floor. She spotted some of the students she knew immediately. Cho Chang was dueling with a Death Eater in one far corner, her hair sticking to a bloody patch on her head as blue sparks emitted from her wand. Seamus Finnigan was cornering another Death Eater back against a wall before cursing him unconscious. She smiled at this, and then saw her brother, Ron, get hit with a powerful spell that flew him into the opposite wall, his face a grimace of pain as he scrambled to his feet, already launching the next spell, which in turn flipped the Death Eater over on his face. She prayed quickly for his safety as she ran towards one of the empty and dark corners, sitting down and throwing Harry's invisibility cloak over herself so that she would not be interrupted during the spell. _

_Setting the book down in her lap, she looked at it for a moment, memories flashing through her mind from her first year. She shook her head and wrapped one hand tightly around the fang, the other firmly holding the book down in against her leg, and yanked upwards. The fang came out with a bit of resistance, but she quickly opened a blank page in the journal and held her left hand over it, the fang still in her right hand. She closed her eyes quickly and drew the sharp fang, its top still black with ink, across the palm of her hand and squeezing it quickly to let the blood fall upon the paper. A few crimson splashes appeared, but nothing else happened. She set the fang down and looked at the book more closely, panicking now. But she needn't have worried, because after a moment the blood spread outwards, all over the pages, to create an intricate spell that she knew she must speak. It was in Latin, which she had never taken, but she just hoped that she was getting the pronunciation right. She watched as Harry fought with Voldemort, becoming more and more drained as she kept reading. She knew he wouldn't last much longer, so she tried to read even faster, if that was possible. Soon, a blinding red light emitted from Voldemort, and when it had disappeared, a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle stood in his place. He looked dazed for a moment, then looked around and grinned evilly. Ginny felt something tickling the bottom of her back, and reached back to feel her hair had suddenly grown so long that it was sweeping the floor around her. Her robes had been replaced with a simple, white linen dress, and she was now barefoot. She looked down at her hands, which had started glowing blue, and quickly followed the urge to step out from under the invisibility cloak. Her mind was swirling with new thoughts and memories that she knew were not her own, and suddenly she felt as if her body were being taken over by someone else completely, and she was just watching from the sidelines. She wasn't afraid, though. Only calm and relaxed, and had a knowing feeling as she stepped towards Tom._

_All fighting ceased and the hall was deadly quiet, not even a moan from the wounded broke the silence. All eyes rested upon her and Tom as she stopped a few feet in front of him and held out her arms. Tom's face turned from one of great surprise to one of both sorrow and joy as he ran to her and scooped her up in his arms. He stroked her hair lovingly as a single tear ran down his face. "My dear, sweet Lara. Oh, how I've missed you."_

_She smiled and sighed. "And I've missed you just as much, if not more. But now we can be together again. That is why I've come back, Tom: to bring you home."_

_Tom pulled away a bit, keeping Lara in his grasp at arms length. He was amazingly gentle with her, as no one had even seen before. He gazed at her with a puzzled expression, but soon looked eager. "How? How Lara? How can we be together?"_

_Ginny, or Lara as he called her, reached up gently and cupped his face in her hand. As he gently nuzzled against her touch, she whispered, "You must come with me. Your time has come, love, and if you leave with me now, all will be forgiven in the afterlife, and we will be together again, this time to never be parted. _

_Tom backed away from Lara a bit, a look of concern and slight sadness overcoming his features. Shaking his head ever so slightly and looking at the ground, he spoke softly. "But…but I have almost won. Don't you see Lara? My dream…my dream is almost complete."_

_Lara's eyes filled with sudden grief like no one in the room had even known. "Is this what you want, my love? To be feared and hated? Loathed, despised, and a murderer? Because if it is, Tom, I do not know you anymore…"_

_Tom looked grieved but scared as he rushed back to Lara, kneeling before her and taking her hands lovingly into his own. "No! No, Lara. You know that's no what I wanted. I wanted to be respected, admired, and powerful. I wanted to be remembered; to be a name no one would ever forget. That's all I ever wanted, Lara, and even in that I have failed. Please…take me home."_

_As two pairs of tearful eyes met, the young and anguished couple met in a crushing, yet somehow gentle, embrace. A magnificent light filled the room, blinding everyone in it momentarily. When their sight was regained, they all saw Ginny's lifeless body lying on the ground. Ron crawled forward on his hands and knees and cradled her limp form in his arms. _

_"No! Ginny! Bring her back, you bastard! Bring her back!" Ron's voice cracked and his entire body was wracked with sobs as everyone else looked on in mute horror, shock, relief, and pity. Harry managed to crawl forward as well, and placed a bloodied hand upon his best friend's shoulder assuredly_. _He whispered something in the other young man's ear that no one could hear except for Ron himself. _

_Suddenly, Ron turned towards Harry in hatred. "It's not fair!" He yelled in a cracked voice. "It should have been you!" _

_Harry had been pulling him into a hug as Ron screamed this at him, beating into Harry's chest with all his might before collapsing in his friend's warm embrace. _

"_Why her?" he sobbed. And no one dared say a word. The Death Eaters suddenly burned to small heaps of powder, screaming in agony. A warm glow shown dimly around the corpses of those on the side of the light quickly after before dimly fading, leaving the room silent, only broken with occasional sobs. _

Yes, Severus remembered that day very well. As for the weeks and months that passed; well, they were all just a blur. Harry and his friends had quickly disappeared from the news a week later, as well as the entire incident, never to be mentioned again except for in the occasional books. The potions master never knew what had happened to the famous trio, but when he visited Hermione he'd make sure to find out.


	3. Damaged Goods

_**Dirty, Pretty Things**_

_**Chapter 3**_

Severus stood, yet again, in front of the white, paint-chipped door belonging to Hermione Granger. Though it was in actuality a few days later from his first visit, it somehow seemed like mere seconds. For some reason that was beyond him, he was more nervous of knocking and seeing her now than he was the first time. But nervousness didn't become him. And so, with a final adjustment of his posture and a calming breath, he knocked on the aging wood. The door creaked open slightly, and a tired eye could be seen through the small slit. "Severus?"

"Yes, may I come in?"

Snape heard her sigh, before saying in a rather groggy voice, "Yeah, sure. The door's open."

As he opened the door, he saw her back was faced to him and she was pulling down her ponytail. She took a few moments to adjust her hair, and when she turned back around, the right side of her face was yet again covered by her hair. She tried to speak, but her voice was broken and she had to clear it before asking in an actually rather polite voice, "Um, can I get you something to drink? I, uh, swear I have beverages other than alcohol." The last part she said with a small and meek smile.

Severus smiled back and shook his head. "No, thank you. I'm fine."

She nodded briefly, busying her fingers with her hair. She motioned to the sofa and sat down. He quickly followed and they sat in an awkward silence. He was beginning to wonder why it seemed almost easier to talk to her when she was drunk and callous, but before his mind could explore further on the thought, however, the young woman spoke.

"So, I'm assuming that you came here for some other reason than to sit on this god-ugly couch."

Snape chuckled lightly before nodding. "Yes, I suppose I am. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions. About yourself and…others."

Hermione's eyes closed briefly and she took a deep breath. "You mean about Harry and Ron?"

Snape nodded, wishing he hadn't brought the subject up. The conversation had been light before he had mentioned Harry and Ron, and now he was kicking himself. But if it helped Hermione, then he would be willing for a bit of discomfort on his part. He watched her take a hesitant breath and open her mouth to talk before closing it again. She had a pained expression on her face, and when she opened her eyes, they were filled with tears, but they didn't fall.

"I'm sorry, Severus, but I can't. Not now…I should very much like to tell someone, someone I trust, one day. But not now, not here."

Severus moved his hand to grasp hers in a comforting gesture, but stopped halfway and let his hand fall limp at his side. "I understand. I didn't only come to talk about them, though. I also came to talk about you; mainly, about you coming to Hogwarts."

Hermione, who had been looking down at her lap while he spoke, suddenly snapped her head up at the sound of her old school. There were many emotions crossing her features; joy, anxiety, grief, and fear. But then he saw the emotion he had been looking so hard for, he realized: hope. The tears that had sat unfallen in her eyes now slid down her cheeks. "Me? At Hogwarts again? But, why?"

Severus smiled and looked at her, realizing suddenly that he had been the one who had wanted her at Hogwarts. _He_ was the one who had wanted her to come there. But she couldn't know that, not yet anyway. So he settled with a safe answer. "Professor Dumbledore would like you to come back, that way you may be able to assist me in class."

Hermione just sat dumbfounded for a moment before looking up at him again. "I…I want to come back. But, I hardly think I'm-" she looked down at herself before turning her gaze back to him. "Appropriate for the position. And it's not as if I have the money to afford new clothes and robes and things. And I have…responsibilities to attend to here."

Severus faced became stern, but his eyes were still filled with enough compassion that Hermione did not shy away. "You don't have responsibilities to attend to here. Not anymore. They don't own you, Hermione; you are in charge of yourself. Don't worry about money, Dumbledore has offered to open an account for you so that you may purchase such necessities. And don't worry," he said, as Hermione opened her mouth to object. "He will simply take it out of your paycheck if you'd like until it is all paid back." This was only partially a lie; he was the one was planning on opening the count, and he was not about to let her pay him back out of her paycheck.

Hermione looked at him with a small smile. "You know me too well, I'm afraid." She sat silently for a moment, feeling slightly uncomfortable in the stillness. She wanted very much to go back to Hogwarts, away from this unholy life. She sniffled and wiped her eyes, careful to keep the hair in front of the right side of her face as she did so. "I do want to return. More than anything, really. But...I hardly think I'm in any sort of condition to return. I mean, look at me." She stood up as she said this and looked down at herself. She wore a raggedy, too tight tee shirt and fraying denim shorts that, while they didn't hide her thin, beautiful body, made her look like a first class piece of trailer trash. She shook her head and walked into the kitchen, Severus' eyes following her as she did so. He would have thought that, even in her profession, she would make more than she did. After all, she was exquisitely beautiful. She returned with a beer in one hand and a lock box in the other.

"This is all of the money that I have," she said, setting the box down on the table and taking a swig of beer. "If I'm to start over, I'm guessing I'll be needing some money of my own, right?" She opened the box, showing its pitiful contents of only a few hundred galleons. "That's about how much I make in a month. I can get more if I work harder, maybe in another area of town."

Severus shook his head and closed the box once more, locking it securely. "You will do no such thing. Keep this for...for something you really want. A rainy day, if you will." They sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes until Severus spoke the question that had been on his mind.

"Hermione, you're...you're a very attractive girl. Woman," he corrected himself. "I would have expected men to be clawing for the chance to spend even one night with you. What I'm getting at, I suppose, is why don't you make more money than this?"

Hermione smiled sadly, setting her beer down and leaning back into the couch. "Because no one wants damaged goods."

Severus looked at her curiously for a moment, opening his mouth to ask what she meant when she stood up, grabbing her empty bottle and the lock box and walked back into the kitchen. He waited a few moments for her to walk back out, and when she didn't he silently walked into the kitchen after her. She was standing with her back to him, her hand lifted to her face. He eased up behind her and softly stated her name. She whirled around, fixing her hair much like she had done when he first came in. He lifted his hand to move her hair to the side, but she skirted back out of his reach.

"Don't. You're one of the only people I know who consider me beautiful. I...I just want to keep that, if only for a little while longer."

Severus wasn't sure what to say. His curiosity, strong as ever, wanted to know exactly what it was that she was hiding behind her wavy sheet of hair, but he didn't want to frighten her and lose her trust either. After a moment, he lowered his hand and nodded. He wanted to reassure her, but wasn't quite sure how to without sounding like he was attracted to her, never mind that he actually was.

"You do realize that no matter how you look or what you've been through, you are still one of-no, _the _most brilliant and clever witch I have ever known. Never forget that, Hermione."

The young woman stood there, not knowing what to say. It had been a long time since someone had called her brilliant, or anything that wasn't derogative for that matter. She considered his offer, weighing the pros and cons in her head like she used to in chess matches with Ron. The thought of him brought on another onslaught of tears, though, so she quickly looked back up at her old professor.

"So, when can I start?"


	4. It's a Girl Thing

_**Dirty, Pretty Things**_

_**Chapter 4**_

Hermione was surrounded by every colour imaginable, and even some that she never knew existed. Standing in a robe shop in the middle of wizarding London, Hermione was in awe of all the fabrics, designs, and shades. She had never been here before, and suddenly Madame Malkin's Robes For All Occasions seemed a joke. A beautiful shop girl, hardly even 18, with auburn curls walked towards her, a polite smile on her face.

"Can I help you, miss?"

"Um, yes. I need some new robes."

"An entire new wardrobe, actually," Snape interrupted.

Hermione spun around to face her old teacher. "That's really not necess-"

"I insist."

The girl nodded and motioned for Hermione to follow her to a fitting room. "We just need to find your measurements quickly," she said brightly.

Snape waited in the main room, looking at all of the robes. A few moments later, the shop mistress came back out and walked towards him.

"Excuse me, but the woman told me I was to ask you about your price range."

"Ah, yes. Well, she does need an entirely new wardrobe, but please try to keep the price at a moderate rate. But don't be cheap."

The girl nodded again and bustled around the shop, grabbing a couple of robes in every colour and style before walking back into the fitting room, her arms full to the point that Severus was amazed she could see where she was going. Severus was rather uncertain as to what to do with himself. He'd never shopped with a woman before, except for when heattended Hogwarts and his mother would take him. That had been quite some time ago, however. He spotted an unoccupied chair on the other side of the room and decided that he might as well be comfortable. After all, this could take hours.

After trying on nearly every robe that the girl had handed her, Hermione had made a few decisions. The first of which, was that she looked good in neutral colours, and the second of which was that she was definitely going to need some pins for her hair. And the last, and most important in her mind, was that if felt good to actually be wearing clothing that covered her body. She picked out some simple but elegant tapered robes in earthy colours, as well as a couple with more intricate detail for nicer occasions. She even found a nice lavender robe in some sort of flowy, sheer material laid over white silk that she would wear to any balls that could possibly pop up (she liked to be prepared). Just when she thought that she was done shopping, the auburn haired girl turned back around with a grin.

"Good, now we just need to find you some accessories."

"Oh, I don't think I should. I mean, this isn't exactly my money, and-"

"Well then, I'll just ask your husband."

Hermione blushed, starting to object, but the girl had already walked out. Who in their right mind would ever consider them to be a couple? Hermione found herself quite shocked, but in an almost pleasant way. She didn't have time to think more on the subject, however, because the girl had rushed back in, an even larger smile on her face, if that was possible.

"Your _colleague _said that you were to acquire an entirely new wardrobe, accessories and all."

Hermione realized that Severus must have corrected the shop girl, but she couldn't figure out exactly why she felt a bit sad at the fact. Before she could start moping around, though, the girl was dragging her to the other side of the room to show her jewelry as well as some hair pieces. After nearly a half an hour of debating both internally and with the girl, she picked out a necklace of thin black leather with an old Chinese protection medallion tied at the end, a beautiful but relatively inexpensive pair of chandelier earrings as well as small floral studs in a brass-like metal, and four new hair pieces to keep her hair up on the left side or to clasp at the end of a side braid. She looked at her seemingly large amount of items and was positively dreading hearing the amount that it would all cost.

She didn't have to wait long, however, as the shop girl carried everything to the front of the store to ring up. Hermione stepped out of the room, still wearing her old, worn Levi's, an old but relatively concealing Hello Kitty tee shirt, and tattered black Converse sneakers. She looked up at Snape sheepishly, feeling very bad for making him pay for her many items. He just looked at her with a kind smile and walked over to the girl to pay.

"That will be 97 galleons, 26 sickles, and 4 knuts, please."

"Merlin, Hermione, what did you do, buy a small third world country?"

Hermione looked up, feeling dreadful until she realized that he was chuckling as he said this. "I know, I'm really sorry, and I promise I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

Severus just smiled, knowing full well that he would never allow her to do that. "Of course, all in due time."

He paid the appropriate amount and stepped outside the shop. Hermione sighed and smiled happily, the bags she had insisted on carrying shrunken and tucked into her backpack, which she had flung over a shoulder. When she looked happy, she also looked younger, Severus noticed. It was the first time he had seen her happy since back in school, and it in turn made him feel pleased as well.

"I suppose you'll be needing shoes," Severus said, looking down at his former student. "I don't know what it is about you bloody women and shoes, but I do know that they're always necessary."

Hermione blushed and looked away, smiling slightly. "I'm perfectly fine with the shoes I have, actually. They're the only things I own that fit and look alright."

Snape looked at her for a moment, then started walking down the street. Hermione, rather puzzled, hurried to catch up.

"Wait! Where are we going?" Hermione asked, worried that she had upset him in some way. Snape didn't stop until he had opened the door of a shop for her, allowing her to step inside. She was immediately bombarded with the scent of new leather and the sight of hundreds of shoes and bags. "But I really don't need-"

"Nonsense," Severus interrupted. "If there's one thing I learned from listening to the female population at Hogwarts when they should be working, it's that a woman can never have enough shoes. Now, whether I agree to that or not (which I don't, by the way), or even understand it, doesn't matter. What does matter is that you're happy. And if a couple of pieces of leather covering your feet makes you happy, then go and frolic amongst these confounding aisles."

Severus was now trying to hide a smile, but at the sight of Hermione's glee, he couldn't stop it from appearing. His look of contentment turned to one of slight shock, however, as threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, stating a brief and teary "thank you" before wandering off amongst the aisles of shoes, looking like a small child in a candy store. After at least an hour, Hermione returned carrying five boxes of shoes.

"I promise I'll pay you back. _Promise_."

Snape paid for the items, walking out of the shop with a considerably lighter coin purse and wondering if he might just take her up on her offer this time...


	5. Shadowed Memories

_**Dirty, Pretty Things**_

_**Chapter 5**_

Hermione was currently sitting on her new bed in her new room at Hogwarts. It was actually a guest room that connected to Snape's chambers, but that didn't really bother her. Snape's chambers, the sitting room, anyway, were now also her chambers. Her room was already decorated, but she was planning on making some adjustments. After all, the last thing she wanted to see hanging on the walls, covering the floor, and making up her bed were Gryffindor colours. It wasn't that there were too many memories tied to them; she could live with that. It was the fact that it wasn't her anymore. That was a different part of her life, and one that she had left behind a long time ago. Working some transfiguration spells throughout the room, she eventually sat on a plain white, cotton comforter. On the walls hung tapestries of Monet and Degas, two of her favorite impressionists. She left the hardwood floors bare, preferring to walk around in slippers when it got cold. A large tapestry against the opposite wall she had turned into a window, enchanted to show the current weather. The rug that had previously been resting upon the floor was now a pair of flowing, sheer taffeta curtains. The only things she didn't change were the furniture; she was actually rather fond of the simple cherry pieces. She had already unpacked all of her belongings, leaving the room nearly as bare as when she had arrived. All of her clothes as well as her bag were now in the armoire, and the only thing that was different in the room was a CD player and a few CDs accompanying it on her night table. She realized suddenly that she had nothing to do. It was summer vacation, meaning there were no classes to prepare for, no work to do, nothing. So she just sat there on the bed, leaning back against the pillows and staring into the colourful swarms of flowers on the tapestries. Her eyes blurred and she closed them for a moment, only to be greeted by the vivid pictures of memories...

_"Will you two knock it off! I'm going to be sick if I have to see you two sucking face anymore!" Hermione laughed as she scolded her two friends, not really meaning it. Ron and Harry were actually really sweet together. It was one of the only bright things in their dismal lives. Hermione had been working as a hooker for a year now, as had Harry. Ron, however, ever mindful of his damnable Gryffindor pride, had taken a job as a hit man. He managed, for the most part, to avoid killing anyone. He just hurt them severely. None of them ever talked about work, except for how much they made that day. In the small, white house they could just be themselves, leave all their other troubles outside. Ron and Harry had become very close after Ginny's death, despite Ron's harsh words. They had been dating casually, but in secret, before that, though. Hermione, who had always seen Harry and Ron as her brothers, saw them in a bit of a different light now that they were together, but she still loved them. Hermione had never trusted anyone besides them after the last battle, and she wasn't about to start. She was fine not being in a relationship; at least she had her best friends._

_Harry kissed Ron lightly and stood up, looking at Hermione. "You ready to go, 'Mione?" _

_Time for work again. After all, it was 11:00. "Yeah, sure. See you later, Ron."_

_"Later, Herm. See you in the morning, love," Ron said as he clasped Harry's hand in his, giving it a slight squeeze._

_"You bet."_

Of course, Harry never did return that morning, and it wasn't until that afternoon when he was discovered by Ron, who had been working across the hall. When his job was done, he heard voices across the hall and walked over to see a group of wizards crowded around something on the bed. Murmurs of "too bad", "damn sluts", and "got what he deserved" floated into Ron's ears. He suddenly ran into the room, fearing the worse. His fears were confirmed by a mediwizard; it was Harry, and he had been murdered by one of his customers. Ron had come home that evening and told Hermione what had happened. She remembered how solemn his face was; almost blank. Knowing that she needed the money, even if she wished she could stay with Ron at the time, she went to work that night. When she returned the next morning, she found Ron dead in his and Harry's bedroom. He had killed himself with a poison, the empty bottle resting in his hand. Flashes of Ron's dead body and her own interpretations of what may have happened to Harry went through her mind and she screamed aloud before she realized it. She curled herself up into a tight ball, her knees to her chest, and sobbed hard, tears running down her cheeks rapidly. Her door flung open and Severus stepped inside, not even bothering to notice the new state of the room. He rushed to Hermione and sat down on the bed beside her, resting his hand lightly on her elbow so as not to startle her. His approach was the correct one, because she didn't scream or flinch away. She, in fact, launched herself at him, balling the front of his cloak in her fists as she sobbed into his chest.

Snape had never really been in this sort of situation before; having to comfort someone who was crying. So, he gently rubbed his hand in slow circles across her back, his other hand gently stroking her hair as he murmured soft words of assurance to her. When she finally calmed down, she wiped her eyes and adjusted her hair properly before sitting back and leaning once more against the pillows. She sniffled softly and laughed a bit, the smile not reaching her eyes.

"I'm sorry; I got your robes all wet."

Snape looked down and saw that, indeed, the front of his robes were now nearly soaked. He just shrugged and performed a drying charm. "I'm more worried about you than this sodding pair of robes. What happened?"

Hermione took a deep breath and looked deep in thought for a moment, as if debating what to tell him. "I was just remembering some things...about Ron and Harry."

Severus didn't want to push her, so he just nodded slightly and sat back to watch and listen to what she had to say. After a few moments of silence, he urged her to continue.

"I was thinking about...when they died. It was just so...it shouldn't have ended like that. I never got to see what happened to Harry. But I was the one that found Ron, you know? And he was just lying there, on the bed. He looked asleep. With the bottle in his hand, I thought he had tried to drown his grief for Harry with alcohol and just passed out, but when I got closer..."

"Poison." Snape said it as a statement rather than a question. He hadn't known what had become of Harry and Ron, but knew that it couldn't have been good. So Weasley had killed himself after Potter died. He wondered how the raven haired boy's life had managed to end.

Hermione nodded weakly. "Before Ron...he told me what he had seen. Of Harry, you know? I guess his client got a bit out of hand and...and there was so much blood. On the bed, the floor, everywhere. A knife, they said it looked like. I should have known the guy was no good. I should have warned Harry. But he seemed so normal, in his suit."

"It's not your fault, Hermione. There's nothing you could have done to stop it from happening."

"Maybe, maybe not," she said quietly, looking so sad it hurt Severus to face her. But she suddenly turned bitter. "What is it with fucking knives, huh? Why can't they use guns, or curses, or, hell, even potions. Always fucking knives..."

"Because they scar."

Hermione looked at him, seeing the same kind of reminiscent sadness that was often on her face when she looked in the mirror.

"Even if they don't kill you, you'll be marked forever. You'll always know what happened. It's not like your mind, where you can just erase an event. It's your flesh, where nothing's forgotten."

Hermione looked at her old professor, seeing the haunted look in his eyes. "Severus..."

"I haven't ever been in your position, exactly. But working as a spy for Dumbledore under Voldemort came with a price. Needless to say, I think I paid it in full."

Hermione reached her hand out, hesitantly, and took Severus' hand in her own. "At least you don't have to hide your face."

Snape looked up at her and squeezed her hand lightly. Hermione suddenly smirked a bit.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Snape looked a bit shocked for a moment, then smiled sadly at the mention of the childhood game every kid has played. He convinced himself that it was for Hermione that he was doing this, pushing away the thought in his mind telling him that he needed to heal as well. He nodded, albeit hesitantly, and looked up at her again. She gently pulled her hair back to reveal a long, relatively thick scar traveling from her eyebrow to the middle of her cheek. She had closed her eyes, not wanting to see Snape's reaction, and was slightly shocked when she felt a hand trace the pale mark. Her eyes opened to see Severus actually smiling.

"You're still a beautiful woman, Hermione. Scar or not."

Hermione blushed a bit and felt a tear trickle down her cheek. She couldn't remember the last time someone had called her beautiful. It must have been by Ron or Harry, but she couldn't even remember the occasion anymore. She sniffled again and wiped her eyes. "Alright, your turn."

Snape just sat on the bed for a moment, unsure about what he was about to do. No one had seen his scars with the exception of Poppy and Albus. And, of course, the people who had graced him with them. At Hermione's gentle squeeze on his arm, he stood up and unbuttoned his robes, revealing a plain, black dress shirt and slacks underneath. He turned away from Hermione as he unbuttoned his shirt and, hesitating just slightly while it rested on his shoulders, pulled it off.

Hermione refrained from gasping at the long gashes that had long ago healed across his back. There must have been two dozen of them, and each one looked to be deep and painful. She stood up and walked silently up to him, tracing the lines with her fingertips, light as feathers. Snape shivered involuntarily at the sensation. He knew it was wrong, to become aroused by something so small as a few touches, especially from Hermione, knowing what she had been through. But his mind wasn't what was controlling his dick at the moment. He swallowed hard and walked forwards a few steps, away from Hermione. He couldn't let her see the effect she was having on him, but if he turned around it would be all too apparent. He had closed his eyes, trying to take deep breaths and calm himself down, or at least his groin.

"Severus...this may be way out of line, but...I don't think you're ugly or damaged. I think you're amazing." She had stepped towards him again and laid a hand on his shoulder, turning him around to face her. He backed up against the wall, which was just a few inches away, but she just stepped forward again, allowing herself to press against him.

"You're right," he said softly and without harshness. "You are out of line. But I think I'm even more so, and if you don't step away, I might..."

Hermione brought her face closer to his, their lips just a few inches apart. "Might what?"

Severus had begun inching towards Hermione as she spoke, and their lips were now just barely touching. "Kiss you."

And he did.


End file.
